


4 and Counting

by iamavacado



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Will update tags and ratings as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamavacado/pseuds/iamavacado
Summary: After a ghastly string of murders arise with victims having numbers carved into their skin, the local police department's set of brilliant detectives vow to find the killer.





	4 and Counting

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more than one chapter. This is inspired heavily by Chicago PD and Criminal Minds. I apologize for any inconsistencies. This is more for my enjoyment than anyone else's, but I posted it so anyone who liked this sort of thing could read!!!!

Johnathan Korse walked in with purple circles clear against his eyes, but everything else about him said he was alert. His hands were placed authoritatively at his hips. His lips were pursed in a tight line, ready for business. His back was straight as a pin even with the gun at his belt, knives at his ankle, second gun around his chest holster, and other gadgets like pepper spray at the other side of his belt. His balance should be off kilter, even a little, but he was still. At least, Heather would definitely be off balance. When she got her gun for the first time, she had to take a minute to adjust to the new weight at her belt, even one so small. Imagine what it must feel like having an arsenal strapped to you. 

Korse slapped a folder in front of everyone at the table, some still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Some were already hyped up on too much coffee, and some were just morning risers--lucky bastards. Heather was somewhere in between. She felt the ache of tiredness in her muscles, but her mind was clear and sharp: ready for a case. Despite herself, she yawned. 

Price nudged her shoulder. "Still tired Baker?" he asked teasingly.

She stepped on his foot under the table. "Awake enough to not take any of your shit," she shot back, smiling.

He didn't even wince. They both know she didn't hurt him. Didn't stop him from pinching her though. "Awake enough to arm wrestle?"

"Any day."

"Oh yeah? But I always win."

"Ready to break your winning streak Price?"

Korse caught them. "You two fourth graders done?" he asked. His voice had a grated quality to it. Like his throat was a cheese and his teeth cut his voice into ribbons on the way out. Heather still found it intimidating, even though she'd been on his team for over a year now. She folded her hands in front of her as Kramer across the table chuckled at them.

"Never done Sarge, never done," Price shot back, leaning with folded arms back in his seat. He hid his smile as Korse shook his head and started pacing across the table. 

"What do we got?" asked Kramer. 

Korse grabbed a remote and clicked on the TV in front of them. A gruesome scene opened up in front of them. Some of the other detectives even seemed to wince at the body.

"Fourth victim in a string of murders with a very....interesting M.O," explained Korse. As he talked, he clicked along the disgusting slideshow, showing different parts of the body, other bodies, blood, and the scenes. "Our newest victim is one Molly Cummings: wife of Derek Cummings, mother of one." He flashed a picture of her from when she was alive. Blonde hair and green eyes, and a wide dimpled smile. Then he flipped to her body once again. "Her torso was sliced horribly with what seems a knife or other type of blade. However, this wasn't what killed her--"

"What killed her?" prompted Morgan as he rubbed away his headache. He'd been on high profile overtime last night. He hadn't had a chance to sleep.

Korse continued, "Blunt force trauma to the head." He showed a close-up of the victim's head. It was completely caved in. Heather decided to study the patterns of wood on the table as he explained. "As you can see, not pretty. This-- is what killed her. The slices were pre mordem. But this next thing was not. And this is what's interesting."

Heather looked up to see a close-up of the victim's wrist. On it, something was hand carved into the skin with some kind of blade. When she squinted, she could see it: the numbers 004.

"He's numbering his victims?" Price asked.

Korse nodded. He clicked, and three other wrists showed up with their corresponding numbers. 003, 002, and 001. "We aren't sure why, but we can guess that this isn't going to be the last of them."

Heather opened her folder. Each victim's picture was paper clipped to their profiles. She examined them. All different from each other. The first and fourth victim had blonde hair, but the second and third ones had brown. One of them had a nose piercing. Another was Asian. Another was African American. "There's no pattern between them physically except that they're women," said Heather.

Korse threw a finger in her direction. "Correct. We thought maybe the killer has some kind of fixation on women, so we've put out a warning to not let any woman walk alone. Other than that, there's nothing that ties these guys together. So that's why we got Town looking into their schedules. See if they had similar jobs or hobbies, if they knew each other, that sort of thing."

Town was their tech. He was their link to all things internet while the team who went on the field focused on the outside. His real name was Tom, but he earned his nickname on account of the old Sargent's hearing problem. Before Korse, there was Kennedy, who had lost most of his hearing due to improper exposure with his gunshots. He was actually legally deaf. He heard Tom's name, repeated it back to him--"You said Town?"--and it's been stuck ever since.

Town was typing away at his portable laptop, as usual. "Nothing yet," he said. His eyes speedily scanned the information as it flashed across the screen. 800 words per minute. "The most I have is that they're all married, but I doubt that's the reason they were killed."

"Keep digging," ordered Korse.

"Will do."

Korse turned his attention back to the team. "As for you--" he pointed at Morgan-- "You and Kramer are going to check out the latest crime scene." The two nodded, stood, gave each other a fist bump (much to Korse's annoyance) and left. "McGinely and Jameson, you go see if the autopsy has anything else to say." When they started to protest, he held a hand up that silenced them. "I know it seems pointless, but this is just at first glance." He gestured to the TV. "See if they found anything else out that could tie the victims together."

Baker looked up from the table, waiting patiently. What was he going to have her do? A stakeout at the killer's location? Undercover work in their gang? Pretend to be a hitman killing the next person the murderer wants dead?!

Sarge pointed at her and Price. "You two talk to the family. See if they know anything."

Heather tried to hide her shoulders slumping with her standing up and nodding. Korse walked off. When he was out of earshot, she let out a loud sigh, much like air escaping a balloon. Price nudged her again.

"I know it's not exactly the SWAT team, but it's important," he said.

"Yeah, I know. But it's all he's had me do," replied Baker. She shoved a thumb in Korse's direction. "When it comes to this kind of thing anyway. I'm just--" she took a big inhale of breath. Voicing her frustrations to any other coworker might actually get her in trouble, but thankfully, Price was just...she didn't know. There was something about him. His green eyes were welcoming. His playfulness and their shared antics created a friendly atmosphere among all the forced professionalism. He's vented to her before, so why couldn't she to him?-- "I know I'm capable of more, you know?"

Price nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But it's probably for the best." Baker looked offended, but before she could speak, he continued. "Sarge had me doing the same thing first year I was here. I was annoyed too, but the first time I ever went out after a guy-- A _real_ guy--" He meant a serial killer. Petty thieves and shoplifters were fun enough to chase after, but a murderer was the real deal. "I mean, this guy, he wasn't scared of me at all. He had a gun, he knew how to use it, and I didn't have a vest. I caught him in a back alley, and we had a standoff.

'You don't have to do this,' I said to him. I said, 'You can put the gun down and we can both walk away from this unharmed.' I said to him, 'Just listen to me, okay?' And then the guy cut me off-- God, I should've called for backup. Never go into chasing a perp like that unless you have backup-- anyway, he cuts me off. He says 'I don't feel like listening.'"

"It's like a movie or something," Heather said.

Price nodded enthusiastically. "I know right? Anyway, he shoots me."

"He _shoots_ you?"

"Well we weren't there to dance or anything. Yeah, he shoots me right here." As he said it, he lifted his shirt up and showed Baker a round scar on his stomach. "Missed my liver by a millimeter," he explained. He let his shirt fall. "As you can guess, I fall, I'm bleeding, I'm doing the go round thinking, 'Well, this is how I die. Chasing a perp and I didn't even catch him. What a damn fool I am. Fuck me.' And then I guess I pass out because I don't remember anything after that."

"Your last thought was going to be 'Fuck me'?" asked Baker, almost laughing. Her arms were crossed.

He shrugged comically. "I mean I guess. Well, I wake up in the hospital, and Sarge is standing over my bed. Imagine that. Stone faced Sargeant Korse waiting for me at bedside to wake up." He stuck his hands in his pockets, chuckling. "And at that time, I wasn't even a detective. I was nobody to him. But there he was."

"Your family was...where?"

"They didn't know, apparently."

Baker scoffed.

"Anyway," Price continued, "I start to apologize and say that I should've waited for backup, and blah blah blah. I mean, _I_ thought I was gonna lose my job. I don't know why, but I did. But he puts his hand up like this--" he demonstrated-- "silences me. And he puts his hands on his hips, and he says to me, he says, 'Jacob, you're a damn fool. I'm glad you're okay.' And then he just leaves!"

"For real?"

"Yeah! And then-- and then next week, I was a detective."

"Really?"

"Mhmm! It's insane."

"Did he really call you a damn fool?"

"He totally did."

As they shared a laugh, Sarge secretly came in and glared at them. "Hey." His tone startled the both of them. "You can gossip later. Go talk to the victims like I told you to."

Price gave a mock salute. "Will do Sarge." He tapped Heather. "Let's go?"

"Yeah J, let's go."

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment!!!!


End file.
